Unveiling all this poetry from my younger days, has actually been sort of interesting.
After I stopped cringing.
A lot of the same images turn up in my current work – the red sword, the ocean, the angst. The drippy, drippy angst.
It’s also revealing to see how much of these themes and concepts have coalesced into one character, Izus Torrossian. A lot of these poems could have been written about him, or BY him — even though I wrote these years before that character ever existed.
So, Lodestar Crew, take note. Izus is some sort of manifestation of my adolescent id. Be afraid — be very afraid.
Whew — it is getting serious up in here. I still kind of like the “Dracula” poem, I remember thinking of it as the seed of a musical – the attitude and musical stylings of Les Miserables, with lots and lots of lacy cravats and ridiculous black cloaks.
The Lodestar Crew, in their finest. ARTIST/W.Steven Carroll
Take any fantasy plot, and try to explain it to the uninitiated with a straight face.
Guess what?
You sound like a crazy person.
I tried to write out the plot of Lodestar, leaving out all side plots, character plots, backstory, and world building — and reduce it to it’s essence. THE MAIN PLOT. How I would explain it to someone who knows nothing about the story, and nothing about fantasy. Here’s my first pass.
So, there’s this Gate.
Behind the Gate, is something Very Bad. VERY, Very Bad.
The only way to open this Gate is with Three Magical Items.
The Crimson Key.
The Blue Shield.
The Blood of the Precursors.
The first two items are fairly straightforward, but the third is the problem. It’s a bloodline, carrying the genetic structure of the Gate’s creators down through the centuries in a few human families.
Bad guys have sought the descendents for a long time. Other bad guys have been killing the descendents for a long time.
Bad Guys A want to control What’s Behind the Gate. Bad Guys B want to make sure that their Nefarious Plans aren’t disrupted by What’s Behind the Gate.
Enter the Heroes.
They’ve been protecting a Little Girl. A Little Girl who is the true scion of the bloodline.
Bad Guys A have managed to capture the Little Girl.
The Heroes have to get the Little Girl back, before Bad Guys A can open the Gate – or before Bad Guys B kill the Little Girl.
Can you hear me trailing off lamely towards the end? Cutting my eyes to the right, and regretting even starting? Let me try again.
There’s a Little Girl, and she’s awesome. And important. The Heroes have to keep her safe or the world blows up. Or something.
Now imagine me explaining this to someone on a subway, or an elevator. Can you see that person quietly reaching for their mace?
I guess it would help if I was wearing pants.
[What? Were you visualizing me with pants? Well, I guess that’s your mistake.]
Okay – okay. I know I hit the 45 page mark a couple of weeks ago — but 50 is such a nice round, impressive number.
It totally is.
I was hoping to hit 50 pages by the end of the year, so I’m stoked at being ever so slightly ahead of schedule. After the holidays, I’m going to make a plan for the next few months, so my natural laziness doesn’t derail The Thing That I Can’t Call A Book.
Because the steel is sharp, and the laws are cloudy.
Because the pits are dark, and torches gutter.
Because there is no need for explanation, or justification
Because you can have a purple goblin sucker-punch a dragon, a noble minotaur strumming a lute made of stolen moonbeams, and a half-elven, half-DARK ELVEN maiden break your heart from the back of a crimson unicorn.
Literally break your heart – she cast a spell that crystallized it into Soul Ice, and her gauntlets are enchanted by a fire daemon.
Because, because, because….
[This was a comment I made on a thread asking to justify genre fiction. Comments, rebuttals, and counterspells welcome.]
Hey, I wrote some fresh stuff for the blog – honest to god, typed up today — bristling with new-osity.
I’ve added a new Category “Fresh” for pieces like that, that are written and posted in the same day — I hope to do a lot more of them when my life settles down.
That’s kind of awesome – I wonder who those six people are. Did they like it? Are we best friends now? AM I INVITED TO THEIR BIRTHDAY PARTY?!?
I know this is silly, getting excited about something like that — especially because that story is right over there under the Microfiction tab — but it jazzes me up. TO THE MAX.
Well, maybe not to the max — but in the near vicinity of the max.
1. Every action has a consequence.
2. The unexplored world will not announce itself.
3. The beautiful moment succeeds.
4. Whimsy is a precious flower. Plant liberally.
5. Obstacles are rarely insurmountable.
6. People are not just signposts.
7. The journey is the largest tree in the garden, but the rain falls everywhere.
8. Glory is bought with blood.
9. Dull questions breed dull answers.
10. A single twig announces the tiger.
Over the past year of Lodestar, I’ve tried to establish a simple rubric for most of my storytelling decisions. And because I’m an incredibly pompous sort, I codified them into these ten dictum.
Thoughts? What rules – unspoken or otherwise – guide your writing?
My blog is going to be a little sparse this week. The show I’m directing opens on Friday, and it’s going to absorb every scrap of creative and physical energy very quickly. It has become an event horizon — I cannot imagine anything that occurs after 12/2.
I’m hoping to have some downtime to post, but if not, I’ll get back into the swing of things next week.
For me, it’s definitely Izus Torrossian, the “Man” in the current pieces I’m putting up. I specifically limit the amount that I write with him, because I know it would all devolve into nerdish adolation. He’s also a little bit of a Mary Sue, which I generally hate in fiction. He’s the main antagonist in Lodestar [but not villain, please note] – I’ve tried to make his sporadic appearances memorable, but brief.
But still part of me just wants him to snap his fingers and set a continent ablaze, then hang ten off the nose of an allosaurus while sipping a cup of oolong with one pinky held up. And then pull out his double-necked keytar and play Queen covers for a while.
After I stopped cringing.
spell-sword.com 